


Shaking

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Violence, Pre-Canon, Violence References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9305003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: "I do" can carry a lot of weight. It can hold truths and lies, can make promises and break them. And to Akaashi, "I do" can mean the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by seraphichan at my blog [fairylights101writes](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/)!  
> 42\. After "I do" kiss

Akaashi peeked into the gym, paper clutched to his chest, fingers twitching. His heart beat uncomfortably quickly, and it felt like there was a weight on his chest.  _ You can do it. It’s okay. It’s just the volleyball club. _ But he was two weeks late, a delayed transfer that left him isolated in a classroom where groups had already formed, and that hadn’t helped build any confidence for him, not that anyone could tell. 

He leaned away from the door and sucked down a deep breath as he glanced at his shoes, scuffed up and worn.  _ I should just go home. I probably won’t even get to play. I’m not that good. They’re bound to have a bunch of other setters who are all better than me. _ The paper crumpled a little as his grip tightened. He wasn’t sure if he was really breathing anymore. His fingers were cold. He took a step back. 

A hand found his shoulder and he jolted into a stiff stance, the paper crunching up as he froze. Laughter bubbled up, and slowly he turned, movements wooden. A tall boy stood behind him, his smile warm and his shaggy black hair falling into bright golden eyes that raked down Akaashi before they snapped back up to his face. “Hi there! Do you play volleyball?” 

Akaashi’s mouth opened and worked for a moment before he jerked his head in a nod. “I do,” he said softly. 

The boy’s eyes widened and the sunny smile turned radiant as it spread further, showing off straight white teeth and a split lip. “Really? That’s so cool! You’re a little late, but that’s okay, don’t worry, you’ll be fine! My name is Bokuto Koutarou, ‘n I’m a wing spiker! And the future ace! I’m a second year! What about you? What’s your name? Where do you play? What year are you? What high school are you from?” 

Akaashi took a step back, overwhelmed, but Bokuto only beamed brighter at him as Akaashi stared. He swallowed. “Ah… Akaashi Keiji. First year. I set.”

“So cool!” Bokuto cried and he clapped his hands. “I want to hit some of your sets, Akaashi!” 

His name curled off Bokuto’s tongue in a way that was different from every other time that he’d heard it, dragged out ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He was mostly sure he didn’t mind though. But he shook his head and ducked away. “I don’t think they’re that good…” 

Bokuto shot up, somehow finding a few more centimeters of height as his mouth dropped open, eyes wide. “Maybe, but that’s okay! I think they’ll be fine, Akaashi! And that’s why you’re here, to improve, right?” He nodded shyly and Bokuto beamed at him, clapped his shoulder. “Great, c’mon! I’ll introduce you to the captain and coach and we can get started!” 

Akaashi nodded hesitantly and followed Koutarou as he flung himself into the gym. It was nice, with a huge court and an upstairs area for people to watch from. He was already fairly familiar with it - when he’d toured the school a week before the semester had opened he’d gotten to look around, although it look different when bodies occupied it and nets broke up the court. 

Eyes turned to him. It took everything Akaashi had to stand tall and not shrink back. His hands clenched on the paper, tight and shaking slightly.  _ They’re not going to hurt you. Not here. That’s why you came here, they promised you’d be safe. _ But the gazes were hot on his neck as he walked across the gym to the coach, who smiled and nodded at him. “I’m Coach Yamiji. Our advisor is out right now, though you can meet him later. What’s your name?” 

“Akaashi Keiji,” he murmured, and then he thrust out the club form. Crumpled and wrinkled, a little damp from where his palms were sweating.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

The coach looked at it, then him, and then he smiled as he took it. “Welcome to the team, Akaashi. I look forward to seeing how you perform. Now, let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team, alright?” Akaashi stared at him for a moment, uncertain, before he nodded and managed a smile of his own.

* * *

 

Akaashi stumbled to a stop beside the benches and slapped his hands to his knees, heaving in gasps of air as he stared at the floor. Things were blurry on the edges, spotted with black.  _ Haven’t drunk enough. Should’ve had more. Should’ve eaten today. _

“You didn’t eat?” 

He twitched and glanced up. Bokuto hovered above him, a water bottle in each hand and his eyes scrunched with worry as he peered down at Akaashi. He could only pant and shake his head as he sucked down another breath. “Here. Sit down. We have a few minutes.” 

Akaashi nodded and flopped to the floor, Bokuto right beside him, and they both stretched their legs out. Bokuto passed a water bottle over and Akaashi guzzled it down. He could feel Bokuto’s eyes on him, curious and confused, but he didn’t look at his upperclassman until the water was all gone and he could mostly see and breathe again, and then he turned to Bokuto. “What?” he croaked. 

Bokuto’s brows scrunched together. “You were talking to yourself, and you said you didn’t eat today?” Akaashi’s stomach tightened. He slowly nodded. Bokuto blinked, owlish, true to the school’s mascot, and cocked his head to the side. “Why not?” 

Even though he’d just drunk a full bottle of water his mouth was dry and he suddenly didn’t have enough oxygen to work with. Akaashi’s opened and closed, and then he shook his head. He drew his long, slender legs into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t speak. That heavy stare didn’t leave him. It hadn’t left much over the last few weeks honestly, and he was confused as to why. It didn’t make sense for Bokuto to be focused on him. He was an okay player, but not the best, and certainly not the setter who would send tosses to Bokuto when he became the ace in his third year. He wasn’t even that interesting - he rarely spoke, he shied and flinched away from contact.  _ He’s weird. _

Akaashi picked at the edge of the scar on his thigh, a sharp, jagged reminder of why he was sitting in the gymnasium of Fukurodani and not somewhere further north. He shivered. “Akaashi.” The setter twitched and glanced over to his teammate. Piercing gold eyes pinned him down, trying to strip him bare with a simple stare. “Do you want to play volleyball?” 

Akaashi swallowed hard and nodded. “I do.” 

“Then you need to eat. You’ve gotta drink, and you gotta take care of yourself, okay?” Bokuto smiled and stood. And then he held a hand out for Akaashi, long and wide and covered in calluses from the hours upon hours he’d doubtlessly spent spiking God knew how many balls, and serving even more. Those golden eyes crinkled as he smiled. “C’mon then! Let’s get back at it.” 

Akaashi hesitated, but he nodded and reached up. Bokuto’s hand was large and firm, and the older boy pulled him up effortlessly with a sunny smile on his face. He spun around and jogged over to where their other teammates were gathering, but Akaashi could only stand there and stare. His chest felt weird - not the familiar tightness of anxiety, but something softer, warmer. His hand tingled. He clenched it tight and took a deep breath as he stared after Bokuto, who mixed with the other teens with a brilliant grin. 

Bokuto was strong, and even though he wasn’t smart he was remarkably gifted at volleyball. Long hands, longer legs. Broad, muscular shoulders that added more strength to his powerful spikes and serves. 

_ I want to set to him. _

He already had the opportunity to set to Bokuto, but he didn’t want to only set to him in practices. Akaashi craved the feeling of stepping on the court again, feeling the ball slide off his fingers and into Bokuto’s powerful palm.  _ But what if he leaves you, just like the rest? _

Ice clutched at Akaashi’s chest, tore his breath away. It took all he had to get his legs to move once more, to carry him out onto the court and into the group that had gathered. He was chilled to the bone, even when they did lap after lap of flying dives. Even when he darted around the court, going up for blocks and finding positions to toss from. Even when he ran laps. His head was full of cotton and his face was carefully blanked, hiding the glacial warpath of thoughts inside. Only those golden eyes found him and watched, and under their weight he thought he might break.

* * *

 

A thump made him glance up from his notebook, right as a chipper voice broke through the hum of his classroom. “Akaashi! Can I eat with you?” Bokuto had already seated himself and he stared at Akaashi, a radiant smile on his lips and eyes sparkling with eagerness. 

The first year glanced around nervously, but he nodded after a moment. “Sure.” Though Bokuto had already settled himself and set out his bento, so telling him no wouldn’t have mattered much in the end. He wasn’t sure if he minded. Bokuto was loud, but he was the kind of guy who didn’t care if people weren’t listening, he’d just keep chattering to fill the empty silence. 

But Akaashi was used to eating alone - he’d done it for the two months he’d been at Fukurodani, and six months before that at his middle school. Except there he’d been all too aware of the malicious glares and the whispers that chased him through the halls, swelling and darkening until even the volleyball club was no longer a safe place. He shuddered. Bokuto missed that though, his eyes on his food as he pulled the lid off and set everything out. 

Except then Bokuto’s hands paused and he looked at Akaashi, eyes wide and the smile gone. “Have you eaten yet?” Akaashi opened his mouth, but the quiet gurgle of his stomach beat him to the punch, and Bokuto frowned at him. “Akaashi!” he cried, his name falling off that tongue in that unique Bokuto way, “You have to eat! You’ve gotta keep your strength up if you want to play!” 

_ Will it even matter? _ He kept his mouth shut and nodded wordlessly. 

Bokuto leaned forward. “Do you have food? 

Akaashi bit his lip, glanced down at his bag. “I do,” he mumbled. But he wasn’t hungry. His chest was tight with anxiety, his fingers fluttered and twitched now that they no longer moved across the page. He just wanted to go to the bathroom and hunch over and try to remember what it felt like to breathe and exist without the constant fear of being hurt or harassed, even though no one at Fukurodani had done anything to him except try to politely talk to him. 

Bokuto raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to eat?” 

Akaashi sighed and nodded, and he leaned over to rummage through his bag. When he straightened up he found Bokuto’s wide eyes on his sketchpad, mouth agape with awe. “Akaashi,” he whispered, “This is so cool.” 

Warmth filled his cheeks and he shook his head as he set his bento down, fingers shuddering. “Not really… it’s bad.” 

Bokuto’s eyes snapped up, as intense as they were on the court, and Akaashi found himself shrinking back, uncertain. “No,” Bokuto said firmly, “It’s really good.” 

Akaashi glanced down at the page, then back to Bokuto. “You… don’t think it’s bad? Or weird?” 

Bokuto threw his head back and roared with laughter, which made some people look, but then he rocked back forward with a grin. “No, Akaashi, it’s super cool! I mean! You really caught it, y’know! The moment where the ball hits the hand and it just all pauses for a moment before it goes ‘woosh’ and hits the floor on the other side! Looking at it makes me feel like I’m hitting a spike!” 

His face was burning, and Akaashi was certain it was bright red, but he nodded shyly, and when Bokuto asked to look through the rest of his sketchbook he didn’t fight it, just let him open it up and carefully pour over each drawing until he finally ended up back on the one of himself, frozen in the air, right at the net, body curled back in preparation for a spike, the ball almost to his hand, all of it captured in pencil. 

Bokuto grinned at him and tapped the edge of it before he started to dig into his food. “Lemme see it when it’s done, okay!” 

“Alright,” Akaashi said softly. He took a bite of food. And for the first time in months he tasted more than ash.

* * *

 

“Akaashi, what happened to your leg?” 

He flinched and looked over at his bed, when Bokuto had decided to occupy an hour before when he’d tired of studying. He had been reading a manga, but that was spread on his chest now, halfway done. Those piercing golden eyes weren’t on him, but the ceiling instead, and Bokuto’s fingers twitched on his stomach, erratic. A gesture Akaashi had learned that meant Bokuto was nervous, uncertain. Like he thought he shouldn’t be asking, but he wanted to know anyways. 

Those golden eyes slid over and Akaashi realized that he’d been quiet for too long. He set his pencil down and curled his legs to his chest, as though pressing it to his heart would somehow keep those secrets locked there for none to see.  _ Who do you let in? Who do you turn away? I don’t know. Is he safe? Is he okay? I think he is. _ Bokuto had been nothing but an anchor for four months, and it left Akaashi feeling dazed and confused. Especially at the way his heart fluttered every time they were together. 

“Akaashi?” He snapped back and glanced to Bokuto. His teammate had rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, and he stared at Akaashi, brow furrowed. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to-” 

“I do,” he interrupted, perhaps for the first time ever, but no anger flashed across Bokuto’s face, and so he hesitantly continued. “I just… it’s hard.” 

“Oh…” Bokuto nodded and sat upright, crossed his legs, and hugged one of Akaashi’s pillows to his chest. “It’s okay if you don’t though. I don’t want to make you remember anything bad.” 

He wanted to laugh - he almost did.  _ Make me remember anything bad? As if it isn’t here every second of every day, haunting me through everything. _ It was there when he ate dinner with his parents, who tried their best to gently coax him into conversations, who hadn’t given up despite the near total silence that had lasted for the better part of what was encroaching on a year. When he got dressed, front carefully hidden from his teammates or from a mirror, though his eyes always found those ugly twin scars. 

He pressed his fingers to his knees, spread them wide and prayed that would be enough to ground him. “Ah… my third year of middle school wasn’t great. One of my friends got mad at me, so he spread some rumors. Except… they escalated, and the whole school isolated me. Even my teammates…” 

His voice wobbled and he swallowed, bit his tongue. His heart thumped uncomfortably fast. Was he breathing correctly? He wasn’t sure anymore. “Even they didn’t believe me. One day after practice a bunch of kids beat me up… They broke my leg and I had to get a rod inserted. I guess one of them had a knife too, because before that they’d cut my leg, right where the bone broke out. I… don’t remember. I-I think I passed out, but-” 

Fingers brushed across his and Akaashi jerked as his eyes refocused. As images of a foot flying towards his face and fists coming down and a switchblade flicking out faded. All he could see was gold and black. “Akaashi, can I hug you?” He nodded jerkily, and strong, warm arms wrapped around him, enveloping him in a secure embrace. “You’re safe here,” Bokuto whispered into his hair. “It’s okay. Breathe for me, Akaashi.” 

He hiccuped and shook his head, but his arms rose on their own and wound around Bokuto’s neck. He clung to the older boy, tears streaming down his cheeks as he choked out gasps into his shoulder and trembled on his chair. And Bokuto didn’t say a word, just slowly brought his fingers down Akaashi’s back in a slow, steady path that made him quake. 

He held on tighter. Pressed even closer. Clung to Bokuto as though his life depended on it until he could finally  _ breathe _ as the tears faded away, left him empty and aching. Only then did Bokuto lean back, and then his large, warm hands were on Akaashi’s face, carefully wiping away the tears. Bokuto smiled softly, encouraging and warm. “You’re safe here, I promise. I’ll protect you Akaashi, promise.” 

“You do?” he croaked, except this time his heart was beating quickly for an entirely different reason. 

Those golden eyes glittered. “I do.” 

Akaashi wasn’t sure who leaned forward, but one moment Bokuto was an arm’s length away, and the next he filled Akaashi’s vision, breath warm on his face. Their lips brushed, Bokuto’s warm and chapped, and Akaashi’s breaths hitched in shock. Warmth flooded his face and he let out an undignified squeak that made Bokuto chuckle as he pulled back, warm and rich, sinking into Akaashi like hot tea. He shivered. 

Bokuto’s brow scrunched. “I… I hope that was okay.” 

The first year didn’t speak, just held out his arms and smiled faintly when Bokuto leaned back into them. His arms curled around Bokuto’s neck once more and he drew his upperclassman in. This time their lips brushed, soft and sweet, and then Akaashi kissed him, full on the lips. A spicy scent filled his nose, dizzying and good. His fingers threaded through Bokuto’s black hair and he tugged. Smiled into the kiss as warmth turned his veins into gold, as bright as Bokuto’s vibrant, unyielding eyes. And he kissed Bokuto again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave comments if you liked it - that encourages the posting of future works like this.


End file.
